Chapter 8: The First Time (I've Felt The Need To Confess)
They had just seen each other a few hours ago, but having him here now, on his jet, far away from all the crowds and the cameras and the bullshit, made Max feel very... settled.
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I want to highlight so underrated fics! Leave your recommendations for everyone too!
Mastermind - pieceofchocolate
Chew me up, but don’t spit me out - damagecontrol
Let them eat cake - openingmyeyes
Tis the damn season by moonymoment
Lessen my load - moonymoment
All five of these have at one point or another made my top ten of the year. I adore them and don’t hear enough about them! Let’s give them the appreciation they deserve. 👏👏👏
i think about the argyle pov on jonathan re: horse on the daily
Same tbh like Argyle Castillo horse whisperer lives in my head rent-free.
So does intoxicated Jancy in the woods tbh
also THIS exchange from the aforementioned Jonathan re: horse chapter:
“Are we shit-talking?” Robin asks, waiting on the rest.
“Maybe it’s not the best idea” Steve worries.
“You love gossiping” Robin objects.
“You told the whole school I was a vampire because you saw me drinking Kool-aid” Eddie complains.
“I-”
“You said I pushed Katie Sullivan down the stairs to get top of the pyramid” Chrissy observes.
“That-”
“You tried to start a rumor that Jonathan stabbed his boss!” Robin concludes.
Like Steve is SUCH bitchy mean girl for no reason and it's part of what makes the fic tbh.
Synopsis : The heroine stumbles upon one particular song and it makes her think.
Warnings : this is my first fic, English is not my first language and so far it seems like a mess. So, sorry in advance.
At first it might seem like an angst but it’s actually not.
It all started with a simple song. Can you imagine? 3 minutes and 11 seconds ago I was preparing for one of the most important nights in my entire life, drinking wine, listening to music and now here I am, sprawling on the bathroom floor, thinking if I’m going crazy or I’ve done it several years ago. “I laid the groundwork and then, just like clockwork. The dominoes cascaded in a line”. Could I? Did I? Could I really manipulate my way into the arms of one gorgeous, generous and loving man? Were the accidental meetings not so accidental actually? Did I subconsciously orchestrate that first conversation with his mother? Did I make her like me so she could my company to him? Was I even sincere when I told him that I hadn’t expected us to become more that just colleagues? Did he notice my scheming? Did he have any idea about it when proposing to a psycho? Am I even in love with him? What if I’m just obsessed with having so much power over him? Did I get…..on purpose?
- Cherie? We’ve running late, have you drown in that bathtub?
As we all know... I struggled a lot with Chapter 8 of Mastermind. I went through so many drafts that I can't even remember everything that got cut out or what all happened in them. But there is one deleted scene that's stuck in my mind this whole time, and it's a shame I couldn't make it work because I really loved it!
So, may I present to you all (one of) The Forgotten Draft(s).
Originally, the chapter opened with a recap of everything that had happened over the last three weeks, then cut to Present-Day Max waiting for Charles outside his jet in Brazil. There was a long, funny (but sweet) conversation that happened with Gemma that never made the final cut, and I wish I could have made it work!
This whole thing was really just to push my headcanon that Gemma and Mia are secretly dating... but it's looking like I'm never gonna get around to actually putting that into the story. BUT JUST KNOW IT'S THERE, OKAY? IT'S HAUNTING ME. THEY ARE TOTALLY FUCKING.
Anyway.
(This is very long. Forgive me.)
Deleted 2.5k scene under the cut!
Max had just barely had enough time to shower after all his media was done for the day before hightailing it to the airport, where he was now waiting at the edge of the plane hangar for Charles to arrive. The sun had already started to set over the mountains, taking the last of his adrenaline with it, and he couldn’t help but let out a cracking yawn that seemed to shake his entire body.
“You keep your mouth open like that, and you’ll catch flies,” Gemma quipped, walking up beside him. He looked over at her and laughed, surprised to see her standing there since he thought she was already on her way back to the UK. She winced when she took in his appearance. “You look like the walking dead, mate.”
“Wow. Thanks.”
“I just mean you look tired,” Gemma amended, chuckling softly.
“Yeah, well, someone has been getting in the way of my stress relief lately.” He gave her a pointed look that made her grimace, her whole face twisting up in disgust. “Oh, come on, it’s true! I’ve spent more time with you than anyone else these past two weeks, and, no offense, Gem, but you’re not really my type.”
“Oh.” Gemma frowned, her whole face turned down in a pout. “Why not?”
“Because— you’re—” Max spluttered dumbly, realizing that his joke might have been offensive. “I mean, you’re like... attractive, or whatever, but I’m—”
“Relax, mate.” Gemma laughed, bracing her hand against his shoulder. “I’m just fucking with you.”
Max’s jaw ticked open. “You’re a little shit.”
“You’re so gullible sometimes,” Gemma teased, her whole face lit up with delight. Max’s eye twitched at the word, and he had to look away before he said something embarrassing about the last time he was called gullible. “Don’t worry, you’re not my type either.”
“Yeah, whatever,” Max huffed, his phone vibrating in his hand.
charles f1: sorry, got stuck leaving the circuit 🙃 be there in 5
charles f1: don’t leave without me!!!
Max couldn’t help but mess with him a bit.
MV: sorry, mate, just took off 😕i’ll give them your regards
charles f1:😤 you’re a shit liar, max verstappen
charles f1: you’d miss me too much
charles f1: and you’d be stuck dealing with your family alone
charles f1: AND!!! you’d be stuck with just your right hand!!!! nah, i don’t buy it
His text shocked a laugh out of Max’s lungs, and he was just about to respond when suddenly Gemma reached over and dug her knuckle into his dimple. “Oh my god, look at you! I didn’t know your face could do that!” she squealed happily, shifting her hand around until she was fully pinching his cheek between her cold fingers. “I’ve never seen you smile like this before!”
“Knock it off,” Max grumbled, batting her hand away as he locked his phone and put it in his pocket, his cheeks absolutely burning under her attention. He needed to change the subject before this got out of hand. “What are you even doing here? I thought Red Bull was flying out of the main terminal.”
“You aren’t the only one with super secret plans,” Gemma said, grinning at him.
Max rolled his eyes. “My cousin’s wedding isn’t exactly super secret.”
“Oh, really?” Gemma asked, crossing her arms over her chest. “Then why haven’t you left yet? Your jet looks pretty ready to me...” she trailed off, gesturing at the plane sitting in the hangar behind them. Her tone was baiting as she went on. “You wouldn’t be waiting on someone, would you, Max?”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Max smiled innocently at her. “I’m just taking in some fresh air before flying all night.”
“Right. Fresh air.” Gemma huffed, shaking her head. “That fresh air doesn’t happen to drive for Ferrari, does he? Because that seems like the kind of thing you should tell your press officer ahead of time.”
“It’s just a wedding.” Max waved it off, not thinking anything of it. “It’ll be boring.”
“You know how weddings are,” Gemma argued, giving him a serious look. “The drinks get flowing, you let your guards down, and then suddenly the DJ puts on some slutty Pitbull song and BAM!” She clapped her hands together loudly, right in his face. “You’re all over Twitter before the night is even over.”
“Pitbull?” Max laughed, his eyes lit up with amusement. “Really?”
“Pitbull, Ed Sheeran, fucking... Sweet Caroline. The song can change, but my point stays the same,” Gemma said, rolling her eyes and shaking her head. “People get drunk at weddings and make stupid decisions.”
“It’s a family wedding,” Max pointed out, brushing the whole thing off. “Nobody is going to be blasting me on Twitter.”
“You’ve looked over the guest list?” She put her hands on her hips, giving him a challenging look. “You know all of your cousins’ friends? All the plus ones? The bartenders, the servers, the photographers? Nobody is going to bat an eye when they see you grinding all over Ferrari’s Il Predestinato to some shitty Black Eyed Peas song?”
Max blinked at her, realizing he hadn’t thought about any of that. “Well... no.”
“That’s what I thought.” Gemma huffed, shaking her head. “Luckily for you... Mia and I have already vetted the guest list, and you shouldn’t have anything to worry about,” she said, grinning when Max’s eyes went wide. “Everybody seems genuine on their social media, but we have NDAs ready to go if you get there and feel uncomfortable about anything.”
“How did you...”
“Your sister,” Gemma supplied, still laughing at his expression. “She was able to get a copy of the guest list from your Aunt Gerda, who has great attention to detail, by the way. If she’s ever looking for a job, you should send her my way. She gave us full names, phone numbers, addresses—the works. Mia and I were able to clear everybody over dinner a few nights ago.”
Max blinked at her. “Why would you do all that for me?”
“It’s my job,” Gemma said simply, even though it was more than that. “You should be able to bring someone to your cousin’s wedding without worrying about the headlines or what people might say about it on social media. Especially if that... someone... happens to be a guy from a rival team.”
Max took a deep breath in, feeling a bit lightheaded.
It was probably... the altitude or something.
“Just because your job puts you in the public eye doesn’t mean anyone has a right to your private life,” Gemma told him seriously, reaching out to squeeze his shoulder again. “You’ve sacrificed so much of your personal life for this sport over the years. You deserve to spend your free time doing whatever it is that makes you happy. No matter who makes you happy.”
Max blinked at her again, his throat suddenly tight with emotion as he blurted out: “Are you trying to make me fucking cry?”
“No!” Gemma laughed sharply, her eyes wide with amusement. “If you start crying, I’ll start crying.”
“That would be embarrassing for both of us.” Max laughed wetly, scrubbing at his eyes with the heels of his hands. He would blame his lack of sleep and all the other highs and lows over the past few weeks for why he was actually choked up over her words.
“So embarrassing,” she agreed, smiling softly at him.
They stood there in silence for a moment before he shook his head. “I don’t know what to say.”
“Thank you, Gemma,” she provided, gesturing encouragingly between them. “I don’t know what I’d do without you, Gemma. I’m going to make sure you get a really big Christmas bonus this year, Gemma.”
“Thank you, Gemma,” Max repeated sincerely.
When he had agreed to go to this wedding, he hadn’t even given the guest list a second thought. He didn’t make it a habit of attending family events for many reasons, but being photographed and blasted on social media wasn’t typically one of them. He had never stopped to consider that showing up with Charles Leclerc might have turned some heads.
But... Gemma had, and she had protected him from it before it could become a threat.
He was really fucking lucky to have her.
“You’re welcome, dickhead.” Gemma said, smiling sweetly despite the teasing name. She nodded at something over his shoulder, her soft smile turning into a mischievous smirk. “It looks like your boy is pulling up.”
Your boy, your boy, your boy.
Fuck, Max liked the sound of that too much.
He looked over his shoulder and watched as the black SUV pulled through the security gates, his heart doing that weird twisty thing in his chest now that Charles was finally here. He felt like he had experienced every emotion his body was capable of at some point today, and he was more exhausted than ever before.
“I’ve gotta go,” Max said, turning back toward Gemma and holding his arms out for a hug. She smiled at him as she went easily into the embrace, patting the spot between his shoulder blades before pulling away.
“I’ll walk with you.” Gemma smiled, nodding at him to go on.
They turned and stepped out of the hangar, walking onto the tarmac as the SUV pulled up in front of them. His aunt had called to congratulate him on his win earlier, and then asked (without giving him much of an option to say no) if they could pick up his grandma on their way to the wedding in the morning.
He couldn’t wait to see Charles’ reaction when he told him.
He knew he would be absolutely delighted by the news.
The words were already halfway out of his mouth when he pulled the door open for him. “You’re lucky that you’re cute, because you’re going to be stuck in a car with my—” Max cut himself off when he came face to face with Mia, her hand hovering in the air from where she had been reaching for the door. “—Grandma... hi, sorry, you’re not Charles.”
“No, I am not,” she said flatly, blinking at him.
“Shit. Sorry. Let me get out of your way.” Max laughed awkwardly, standing back and holding the door open so she could climb out of the car. He heard Charles giggling behind him and realized he must have gotten out of the passenger seat. Fucking tinted windows. “Sorry for... calling you cute.”
Mia raised a perfectly shaped eyebrow at him. “You’re taking back your compliment?”
“No!” Max said, shaking his head, wincing when Charles giggled again. “I just meant— I thought you were— I don’t want you to think I was—”
“You’ve made my job harder for the last few weeks, and now you’re telling me I’m not cute?”
“What?! No!” Max squeaked, his cheeks and neck burning red.
“He told me I wasn’t his type either, Mia,” Gemma added unhelpfully, making his jaw drop. He turned around to glare at her, but his breath caught in his throat a bit at the sight of Charles standing there wearing his hoodie. The black one he had given to him back in Austin. It made his heart do that weird, painful, twisty thing again.
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
“Max!” Charles scolded, but he was grinning ear to ear. “Why are you calling these lovely women ugly?”
“I haven’t called anybody ugly!” Max declared, throwing his hands up. “I was just saying that she wasn’t my type, because she’s... she’s...” Max ran out of words, getting more and more flustered at the way everybody was staring at him.
“...British?” Charles offered with a shit-eating grin.
Max glared at him. “No, asshole.”
Charles tipped his head back and laughed, and Max couldn’t help but enjoy the sight of it.
“Go on then,” Charles encouraged, grinning so hard it must have hurt. “Tell us what your type is.”
“What? No!” Max exclaimed, his eyes wide as everybody—even Mia—laughed at him. Max’s eyes flicked over to Charles, and it was hard not to enjoy the sight of him like this, laughing and happy and wearing his hoodie. Fuck. He couldn’t possibly admit that, though, so he hardened his expression and brought his middle fingers up. “Fuck all of you.”
It only made Charles laugh harder. “Aw, Maxy, it’s okay to admit that I’m your type.”
“You’re not,” Max flat-out lied, because he was already embarrassed enough. “I don’t even like you.”
“Is that right?” Charles teased, his eyes bright and smile threatening to crack his face in half.
Fuck, he was pretty.
“Are you two done flirting?” Gemma asked, standing with her hands on her hips as the wind whipped her hair around her face. Max glared at her as Charles went to grab his bags from the back of the SUV, and she gave him a challenging look back. “Don’t you have a wedding to go to?”
“Yes, we do,” Charles answered for him, pulling Mia’s luggage out of the car and handing them to her with a dazzling smile. Charles draped a garment bag over his arm and pulled up the handle of his carry-on before hugging Mia goodbye, kissing both of her cheeks as they parted ways.
“Ready to go, babe?” Gemma asked, taking one of Mia’s bags from her and slinging it over her shoulder. The Ferrari jet was boarding in the hangar next to them, which he only knew because he had seen Carlos Sainz arrive earlier, and he was just about to make a joke about Gemma leaving him for the enemy when Mia turned to face him.
She tapped one, long red fingernail against the side of her neck. “Put the fangs away this time, Edward Cullen.”
“Fuck me,” Max breathed, over the sound of Charles’ high-pitched laughter.
She was never going to forgive him for that hickey.
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besties... i did it. i finished the mastermind chapter.
it needs heavy editing and i need to make sure i actually hit all the plot points i set out to, so it'll still be a while before it's ready to post, BUT I DID IT. WE ARE SO FUCKING BACK.
let's address the elephant in the room: i haven't been writing for months. sometimes life happens, and things get in the way, and your words slip away, and the longer you stay away from your WIP, the harder it is to return.
but i am trying very, very hard to push through it.
this fic is my Everest, and i will make it to the top 😭😭
i've owed everyone an update on the mastermind fic for months, and i will get an update out soon if it is the last thing i do. this fic has tried to break me on so many occasions, but i refuse to let it die. we are getting so close to the end now!! i just have to keep pushing!
this chapter still has a LONG way to go - so please don't expect an update right now. but here is a little something to hold you over, or to remind you that this fic exists, and hopefully i'll be able to finish this chapter up before it truly breaks me.
snippet under the cut!
context and timeline reminder: post race Brazil 2024 - Max and Charles are flying to his cousin's wedding on Air Max.
Charles leaned back into the white leather seat and smirked at him, one hand resting on the table between them, tapping softly against the glossy wood. Max’s eyes flicked down to his hand, admiring the shiny rings wrapped around his fingers before returning to his face.
He looked so fucking good like this.
Relaxed, and soft, and wearing Max’s clothes.
“Nice hoodie,” Max quipped, because he couldn’t help himself.
“Oh, this old thing?” Charles teased, pinching the neck and dragging it up over his mouth, burying his nose in the collar for a moment before letting it fall back into place. Max’s cock ached faintly in his joggers, arousal flooding his system even though he was exhausted. “I hope you don’t expect me to return it any time soon.”
Max laughed softly. “Nah. You keep it. It looks better on you.”
Charles beamed at him. “Gemma was right... you are flirting with me, Max Verstappen.”
“Shut up.” Max rolled his eyes, looking out the window as they barreled down the runway.
The jet lifted off, and Max let a slow breath leave his lungs.
He watched the ground get further and further away before finally looking back at Charles. They had just seen each other at the track, but having him here now, on his jet, far away from all the crowds and the cameras and the bullshit, made Max feel very... settled.
“What?” Charles prompted, smirking at him.
“Nothing.” Max shook his head, smiling softly before he could contain it.
“Some race today, yeah?” Charles asked, still grinning at him. “Seventeenth to first?”
Max huffed quietly, pleased with himself. “Yeah.”
“Impressive,” Charles said, wiggling his eyebrows. He leaned forward on his elbows, his hands inching closer toward Max on the table between them. His eyes trailed down Max’s face, lingering on his lips for a moment before continuing down his chest. When he was finally done drinking him in, he snapped his gaze back up. “I bet you still taste like champagne.”
“You’re shameless.” Max laughed, stretching his legs out underneath the table until their feet bumped together. Charles grinned at him, hooking his socked feet around Max’s ankles and tugging them closer, making him feel warm all over. The jet leveled off, but Charles didn’t move to untangle their feet. “Are you hungry?”
“Starved,” Charles answered, his eyes dropping back down to Max’s mouth in a way that made it obvious he was not talking about food. Max snorted, his stomach swooping at the way Charles was looking at him.
It made him want to cancel the meal he had planned and take him to bed instead.
“Dinner first,” Max decided, because he already asked his flight attendant to serve the food once they were in the air. He could smell the chicken roasting from the galley, and it was making his stomach growl despite the way Charles was undressing him with his eyes. “Then I’m sure we can think of some way to pass the time...”
They had twelve hours before they would land in Rotterdam. Max was exhausted, and his adrenaline had crashed a while ago, but if Charles kept looking at him like he wanted to eat him alive, he was sure he could rally.
He was a professional athlete, after all.
Sweat, baby, sweat... or whatever Daniel was always saying.
